


Room for Rent in Wallachia

by magumarashi



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, M/M, gratuitous swearing because... you know, like...... a lot of alcohol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 18:52:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16582112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magumarashi/pseuds/magumarashi
Summary: After flubbing the housing lottery, super senior Trevor Belmont is in desperate need of housing close to his San Francisco university. He finds an online listing for a room in the Wallachia neighborhood that almost seems too good to be true, and against his better judgment, decides to check it out...





	1. The Listing

**Author's Note:**

> So I was watching netflix castlevania s2 (still havent finished, don't @ me, but i digress) and i found myself thinking how much fun it would be to have a whole show of just alucard and trevor being shitty to each other. maybe as roommates.
> 
> Then i remembered im a writer and i have the power to make that happen

**Room for Rent in Wallachia - $700**

Private bedroom in Wallachia condo (2br 1bath). $700/month + $700 security deposit, 6 month lease.  
Utilities included. Heating, but no AC - extra fans available to borrow.  
Shared bathroom and kitchen.  
Various amenities: Patio. Laundry on site. Cable. WiFi. Bay windows in common area. Walking distance to beach, Muni bus routes. (Ride 20 minutes to San Francisco State University main campus)

You’ll be a good fit if you:

  * Are neat, cleanly, and professional.
  * Do not smoke (neither tobacco nor weed are permitted on the premises and are grounds for immediate eviction if I catch you)
  * Are fine with cats (owner has 1 cat. Cat is friendly). You may bring your own cat but an additional pet fee will apply. No other pets at this time.
  * Can adhere to quiet hours (11pm - 7am)
  * Do not mind living with a cis man and a cat
  * Similar tastes to owner’s are a plus but not required
  * No couples, please.



 

Contact: Adrian Țepeș

 

* * *

 

 

Well, it wasn’t the _sketchiest_ listing Trevor had ever seen, but it was up there.

It was almost too good to be true. $700 for a room in San Francisco was a miracle in itself, especially for a neighborhood like Wallachia—which meant that there was probably something deeply wrong with it. He’d seen _closets_ going for twice that. It was also tantalizingly close to his school, which was only the reason he was on this search in the first place. The pictures made it look like a fairly normal bedroom, though the owner had neglected to provide any photos for the rest of the condo. For all Trevor knew, the living room walls could be covered in busty anime posters or taxidermied animals.

(Heck, that wouldn’t even be too bad, and definitely not the worst thing he’d seen on the hunt. The award for that went to the guy renting out his uncle’s fully furnished place, which sounded great until Trevor discovered that the furniture was full of clothing that had once belonged to the uncle’s long-dead boyfriend.)

At the same time, though… aside from the unbelievable price, it didn’t really have the hallmarks of a scam. The owner had given ample detail, the description was neatly laid out, and there were several candid-looking pictures. He didn’t ask for any personal information, nor did he just check off every amenities box willy-nilly. And one line in particular stood out: _Do not mind living with a cis man and a cat_. If he was willing to be _that_ specific, maybe this Adrian guy was worth trusting.

So, Trevor sent an email.

He didn’t expect to hear anything back. With that kind of price and location he would probably be competing with half of San Francisco, and there were undoubtedly a million more suitable roommates than him. Trevor didn’t have a lot going for him, aside from his unfortunate college career (He’d been at SFSU 6 years already and changed majors four times, preventing him from having enough credits in any one major to graduate. He did not plan to mention this to the landlord). He tended to be loud, brash, and impulsive—even when he was sober—and had a habit of leaving clothes and books scattered around his living spaces. He wasn’t exactly the ideal roommate.

But against all odds, a week later he had an appointment to see the place.

* * *

Trevor Belmont was not usually on time to things, but he sure as shit was going to be on time for this.

He arrived at the complex about five minutes early, both as insurance if he got lost and also in the hopes of making a good impression—he didn’t want to seem desperate, but he really, _really_ needed this apartment.

The previous spring Trevor had applied to be an RA on campus to get that sweet, sweet free housing, only to receive a rejection email after the housing lottery had already ended. He was left with no housing and no plan B. He’d been on the apartment search for _months_ since, and he’d seen things that no human should ever have to see. His future was riding on his ability to find housing a reasonable distance from school, and he was running out of time before the start of the semester. (I mean, sure, he _could_ commute all the way from Novato, two hours both ways—but like, why?)

The first thing he noticed upon his arrival was the decorative metal bat hanging on the front door.

In August.

“Ooookay.”

After checking to make sure he had the right unit (he did) Trevor decided to knock anyway. Footsteps could be heard from within, and moments later the door opened.

Adrian Tepes did not look the way Trevor had pictured. For whatever reason the name _Adrian_ had conjured the image of a lanky, mid-height man with a brightly-dyed undercut, piercings, and horn-rimmed glasses. Perhaps a t-shirt from a band Trevor had never heard of. The actual Adrian Tepes was none of those things. He was about the same tall height Trevor was, with wavy blond hair hanging loosely around his shoulders. A white button-up. Black slacks. A gloomy, pretty sort of face. Actually, he looked _exactly_ like the kind of person who would leave their Halloween decorations up year-round.

“You’re Trevor Belmont?” said Adrian simply.

“That’s me.”

“Great. Come on in—quick, so the cat doesn’t leave.”

Adrian moved aside so Trevor could come in, and closed the door behind him.

 _Well,_  Trevor thought to himself, looking around, _this sure makes anime posters look normal._

The interior decor could best be described as “gothic.” Everything looked straight out of a Halloween catalogue: red damask wallpaper, dark wooden furniture, posters in ornate frames. A bookshelf lined with ancient-looking tomes and dubious-looking crystals. A plush couch and coffee table sat in the center of the room, and a candle burning on the table lent the room a woody smell. Even the cat tree in the corner was upholstered to match.

_This explains the bat…?_

“I hope you don’t mind the decor,” said Adrian, noticing Trevor’s bewildered stare. “I’ve had several prospective tenants walk out because of it…”

“No, it’s uh…” Trevor scrambled to find something nice to say. “Very uh, ahem. Addams Family. But in a good way—you’ve clearly put a lot of work into it. It’s impressive.”

“Thank you,” Adrian smiled cordially. “I’ve found that I never quite feel at home with more modern furnishing. Oh, but—you’ll be free to decorate your room however you want.”

“Good to know.”

“Would you like a tour?” Adrian offered.

“Absolutely. Show me around.”

Adrian’s flat was small, but with an agreeable floor plan. A main hallway bisected the apartment into two halves: on one half was common areas: living room, kitchen, bathroom, and patio. The kitchen was small and didn’t have much counter space, but it was fully equipped with an oven, dishwasher, microwave, and fridge. The bathroom was also fairly small; somehow the architects managed to cram a toilet, sink, washer and dryer, and standing-only shower into the tiny space. To Trevor’s dismay, all of these were decorated to match the living room. There was even a skull-shaped soap dispenser in the bathroom.

As they walked from room to room, Adrian asked Trevor a bit about himself. Trevor was careful to skim over the less savory details—Adrian didn’t need to know about his education status, laundry habits, or the amount of alcohol he tended to go through. He’d been through enough interviews by now to be able to bullshit a respectable self-introduction. He already had a story worked out: he would be going to grad school at SFSU, getting a Master’s in Business. Adrian seemed to believe him, and that was good enough.

The other half of the apartment contained the two bedrooms, each with a door opening into the hall. Trevor would be taking the smaller of the two rooms.

“I used to use this room for storage, so it’s not decorated or anything,” said Adrian as he opened the door. “I’m sure that’s a plus for you, though?”

“Oh yeah, that’s fine.”

The room looked exactly how it did in the photos: it was narrow, rectangular, with plain white walls and a single window on the short wall at the far end. The long wall next to the door had a closet with sliding doors. There was enough floor space for a bed and possibly a desk, but not much else. It wasn’t very remarkable—but compared to the rooms he’d seen until now, something this normal was practically a holy grail.

_This is it. This is the one._

The thought crossed his mind, briefly, that maybe he ought to take some time to consider. $700 was a steal of a price, but was it worth the genuinely unsettling living space? The undeniably eccentric roommate? The non-zero chance he’d be dumped immediately by any date he tried to bring here? The shits he’d have to take with the skull-shaped soap dispenser watching his every move?

And yet, memories of his other attempts to find housing flashed before his eyes. The sketchy-looking man in the stained shirt who was only interested in female tenants and wouldn’t give him the time of day. The not one, but _two_ rooms he’d found, in different houses, that were designed and painted like jail cells. The $2000/month in-law suite with no kitchen or shower. The man who—god, why the _fuck_ did his uncle still have all his dead boyfriend’s clothes?! What the fuck!!!

So, he could do way worse.

Could he live with the almost comically campy decor in the rest of the house?

For $700 a month, abso-fucking-lutely.

“I’ll take it,” said Trevor.

“Are you sure? You’ve barely been here ten minutes.”

“This is easily the best goddamn room in San Francisco. When can I move in?”

Adrian stared at him, seemingly in disbelief—how long had the poor sod been trying to find someone willing to live in his miniature Haunted Mansion? Trevor almost felt bad for him. He wondered if the $700 rent price was a last-ditch attempt to make the bizarre apartment more palatable.

“Alright then, er—thank you,” said Adrian finally. “The lease starts on the first, so next week would be best. I’ll need to have you sign a lease agreement, which I’ll email to you, and—would it be possible to get the security deposit and first month’s rent upfront?”

“Yeah, I can do that,” said Trevor. He’d put away at least that much in anticipation of the first month’s rent anywhere else.

“Thank you. Much appreciated.” Adrian held out his hand. “You seem a decent fellow, Trevor. I think we’ll get along well.”

“Yeah, I think so too. Thanks, mate.”

Trevor took Adrian’s hand and shook it, gratefully. This was the start of something beautiful, he could just tell. They’d get along swimmingly, he’d re-apply to be an RA in December, and after 6 months he’d get to kiss this weird apartment goodbye.

“Oh—” Trevor remembered something as he released the other’s hand. “Where’s the cat?”

“Ah, she’s probably hiding,” said Adrian. “She gets nervous around new people, but she’ll warm up to you before long.”

“Gotcha. Well… I’ll see you next week then I guess, Adrian.”

“Alucard,” said Adrian, smiling.

“Huh?”

“You can call me Alucard,” Adrian clarified. “If we’re going to be roommates, I might as well have you call me by my preferred name.”

“Alucard, huh?” It sounded just as pretentious as everything else about Adrian’s tastes, but Trevor nodded in acknowledgement. “Alright then. I’ll see you next week, Alucard.”

“Indeed.”

Trevor left the apartment with a spring in his step, feeling like a new man. As soon as he was far enough away to be out of earshot, he pumped his fist and let out a whoop.

“Booyah! In your face, San Francisco! Trevor Fucking Belmont has a place to live!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I picked San Francisco for the setting mostly on a whim but also because I know housing is bananas there; huge thanks to [Sel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selador/pseuds/Selador) for contributing some of the scarier examples.
> 
> Also, if you've gotten through this first chapter thinking "wow, they seem to be getting along well, what's up with that?" don't you worry. this won't last


	2. Roommate Woes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trevor soon discovers that his steal of a living situation is not as great as he'd hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well I've made much less progress on this fic than I thought I would (probably due to starting like 5 other fics in the last week, bc the ideas just keep comin) so i might as well give yall what i have lmao

The honeymoon high of finding a decent apartment in San Francisco for $700 lasted about a week.

At the very least, Trevor adjusted quickly to the feeling of living inside a popup Halloween store. It only took a few days for the macabre decorations to seem more ordinary, and even the very real sword mounted above the television lost its novelty before long. He spent most of his time in his own room anyway, which he was free to decorate to his tastes: posters of his favorite _Overwatch_ heroes, his own bed and desk, and a set of plain curtains over the window (the view opened up directly to the building behind theirs, and anyone living in the opposite unit could see right into his bedroom. Unfortunate, but fixable).

The other tenants, however, were harder to get used to.

By day two, Trevor met Alucard’s cat. She was a fluffy white Persian, and her name was Carmilla—or so said the little silver tag on her collar. It was immediately clear who wore the pants in their relationship. Alucard made a tiny dinner for her every night, cleaned her litterbox twice a week, and let her jump onto surfaces she honestly had no business standing on. Whenever she sat on his lap, Alucard would be pinned to that spot; sometimes for hours, as Carmilla was about the laziest cat Trevor had ever seen.

Trevor let Carmilla into his room once, just to let her have a look around. She immediately peed on his bed. When he loudly threatened to pee on _her_ to show her who was boss, Alucard came in and swept her up protectively, glaring daggers at Trevor.

“She just wanted to let you know she acknowledges you,” said Alucard matter-of-factly. “Throw your sheets in the wash; the smell will come right out.”

“It fucking better!! I just bought these!”

Alucard himself had… eccentricities, even beyond the ones Trevor had been expecting. Despite the fairly normal quiet hours outlined in the lease agreement, Alucard himself seemed to be a bit of a night owl. More than once, Trevor had heard him milling around at odd hours of the night, using the microwave or taking showers. After a few days he learned that Alucard worked afternoons and evenings, so his sleep schedule was offset a few hours from the usual nine to five.

“What is it you do, anyway?” asked Trevor one afternoon, as Alucard prepared to head to work.

“Ah, right, I should have said something,” said Alucard. “I work as a fencing instructor at the college prep school not too far from here. It’s an extracurricular, so I’m mostly there after school and into the evening.”

“And you can afford to live _here_ , with that job?”

“It’s a very wealthy private school, so yes—though, not to flaunt my privilege… I come from a fair bit of money, so I’m well taken care of in other aspects.”

_Oh my god, I should have figured he was a fucking rich boy,_ Trevor thought to himself. _This explains everything. Why are rich people like this??_

Alucard’s financial standing influenced many of his other quirks that Trevor found obnoxious. For one, he was an absolute wine snob: all of the alcohol in the house was red wine, and _expensive_ red wine at that. He could tell alcohol’s quality from the smell alone, and he often turned down Trevor’s offers to share after one whiff from the bottle.

Alucard’s refined palate extended to the rest of the kitchen, too: he was very particular about not mixing his food with Trevor’s, and carefully checked the ingredients of anything Trevor brought home that could even potentially be shared. When asked about it, he cited a sensitive stomach.

“What, sensitive to poor people food?” Trevor had quipped at him.

“If you _must_ know, my stomach is very sensitive to garlic,” Alucard huffed. “If I have any more than the tiniest amount, it gives me horrible gas. Unfortunately garlic is in almost everything nowadays, so I have to be very careful.”

“God, that’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. If I had to live without garlic bread I’d probably die.”

“I get by,” said Alucard. “It’s not like I have to live a completely garlic-free existence; I can have garlic-infused olive oil.”

_Oh my god. Garlic-infused olive oil. That just SOUNDS pretentious. I hate this guy already._

In Alucard’s defense, though, Trevor wasn’t exactly a walk in the park to live with either. As he soon found out, his new roommate was much, much more of a slob than advertised. Trevor never seemed to be able to get his laundry out of the dryer before Alucard needed it. Nor could he remember to clean out the pots he left in the sink, promising Alucard he’d take care of them the next day and then forgetting about them. Most egregiously, Trevor was long known for reacting vocally and viscerally whenever an Overwatch round didn’t go his way. Among his friends, his video game-induced Trevorisms were an endless source of entertainment. Alucard, though, was far less easily amused.

“I’m just _saying_ ,” said Alucard, confronting him one morning before he could leave for class. “When I get back from work, the _last_ thing I want to hear is you shouting at people online.”

“Well maybe if people were better at staying on the _point_ , I wouldn’t have to shout so much!” Trevor shot back.

“Could you at least _try_ to keep it down? That’s all I ask. There are quiet hours for a reason, Trevor. Other people live here too, and frankly I’m surprised we haven’t had a noise complaint yet.”

“Yeah, alright, I’ll try,” said Trevor, with no intention of actually holding to it—not out of any malice, mind, but that he had never had much control over what he said during a game. Sometimes, shit just came out of his mouth! If he found himself shouting “THE JUICE IS LOOSE!!!” while unleashing an ult during a particularly close match, who was he to challenge the whims of fate?

The one silver lining of all this was that Trevor managed to slip back into school life fairly easily. The commute to and from campus wasn’t too bad, and his classes were all pretty close together. He was able to fall back in with all his campus friends—well, the ones that hadn’t graduated yet. His schedule wasn’t too demanding, either: he was taking an English literature class (a holdover from his brief stint as a Creative Writing major), a geology class, a seminar about witchcraft in Salem, and first year German. It was a pretty eclectic mix, but Trevor was quickly running out of interesting electives.

“Maybe this is the year I’ll pick a major and stick with it,” said Trevor, talking to a close but now-graduated college friend over Skype. “Salem witchcraft seems promising.”

“I _doubt_ you can major in witchcraft,” his friend replied, giggling.

“Aw, come on. It can’t be that different from what you do, Sypha.”

“What, as a museum archivist?” Sypha snorted, tucking a lock of blond hair behind her ear. “ _How_ is that witchcraft?”

“I mean, it’s not,” said Trevor, “But if I’m majoring in the study of a specific historical moment in time, that sounds kinda like what you do, right?”

“Fine, fine,” Sypha conceded. “But enough about school. What I want to know is how you managed to find a room in _Wallachia_ , of all places. That’s like where all the rich people live.”

“Oh my god, Sypha, you’re not going to believe this,” said Trevor, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “My rent’s $700 a month.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Dead serious.”

“In Wallachia?”

“Yep.”

“How on _earth?!”_

“Internet. I couldn’t believe it wasn’t a scam.” Trevor grinned. “It’s a great room, but you should see the rest of the place; it’s unbelievable. It’s like Ikea fucked a Halloween store and this apartment was their unholy spawn. My roommate’s a fucking vampire, I wish I was joking—”

At that moment there was a crash as Trevor’s door banged open.

“I’m not a fucking _vampire!”_ Alucard shouted from the doorway, wine glass in hand. “Don’t TELL people that—!”

“FUCK OFF ALUCARD, I’M ON THE PHONE!!” Trevor roared back over his shoulder. “Oh, and if you want people to think you’re a normal person, the cravat and wine are definitely not helping your case!”

“You leave my pinot noir out of this!!”

“Can you get out of my fucking room??”

“Fine,” Alucard huffed, “But don’t go telling lies about me!”

“Try not eavesdropping then, prick!!”

With an exasperated sigh, Alucard left as quickly as he’d come, though closing the door a bit more gently than he’d opened it.

“Wow. Was that him?” said Sypha. Trevor could tell she was trying her best not to laugh.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“You two get on well.”

“Can it. He’s the absolute worst, I swear.”

“Yeah, and absolutely _gorgeous,”_ said Sypha dreamily.

“I know, I hate it,” Trevor sighed.

“Also—‘Alucard’? Really?” said Sypha. And then, a bit more quietly, “That’s not his real name, is it?”

“God, no.”

“Oh good—I mean, I figured not,” said Sypha. “Alucard is just ‘Dracula’ backwards.”

Trevor stared at her.

“You didn’t notice?” said Sypha, genuinely bewildered.

“No!!” said Trevor defensively. He covered his face with his hands. “Oh my god. That’s so obvious. I’m so mad. Of course he fucking named himself after Dracula. What a fucking _nerd!”_

“Wait, Trevor,” said Sypha. “What if… what if he really _is_ a vampire?!”

“Oh come on, vampires aren’t real. I bet he’s just like a weeaboo for vampires or some shit.”

Even as he said it, though, he couldn’t help wondering… A night-focused schedule, aversion to garlic, seemingly superhuman senses, taste for the macabre…

Nah, couldn’t be.  

  



	3. Counting on it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trevor's roommate just keeps getting weirder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> normally i wouldn't post a chapter that has three distinct scenes in it but none of these scenes were long enough to stand by themselves, so, enjoy the long update lmao

Couldn’t be, Trevor reminded himself. After all, Alucard didn’t have any problems going out in broad daylight. He ate normal people food, aside from the garlic intolerance. He seemed to be able to see himself in the bathroom mirror—how else could he keep his hair that pretty?—and he was visible anytime Trevor caught him in the background while taking pictures of Carmilla.

Even as he reminded himself of the fairly convincing evidence to the contrary, he couldn’t help thinking: what if Alucard really _was_ a vampire? Didn’t vampires come from somewhere in Europe? Alucard spoke with a slight accent, but Trevor couldn’t quite put his finger on what part of the world it might be from.

Luckily, there was a quick and easy way to find out.

“Where _are_ you from, anyway?” Trevor asked one day. He’d sat down to watch a few episodes of _The Great British Baking Show_ in the main room while doing homework, and Alucard had bemusedly come to see what he was watching. Alucard professed that he had no interest in baking, but once he’d sat down, Carmilla took the opportunity to pin him to the couch.

“Hm? That’s a rude thing to ask,” Alucard replied.

“Your accent, I mean. You don’t sound American.”

“I spent much of my childhood in Britain,” Alucard said matter-of-factly. “My parents were from Romania. We lived in Britain when I was younger, then came to America to escape… well, let’s just say the British aren’t very fond of people from Eastern Europe.”

“That explains the last name, then,” said Trevor. “I was wondering what kind of name Tepes was.”

“Țepeș.”

“Chepesh?”

“No, _Țepeș_. Tse-pesh.”

“Tepid.”

“Oh, now you’re just fucking it up on purpose,” Alucard sighed in exasperation—he’d likely spent most of his life explaining to others how to pronounce his name correctly. “ _Ts_ like in _guts_. _Sh_ as in _shut up_. Țepeș. You try.”

“Tsep… Chirp…” Trevor knew it shouldn’t be that hard, but he wasn’t used to putting so many consonants so close together. “Chipdip.”

“Forget it,” said Alucard.

“Well, sorry _Romanian_ isn’t my first language!” said Trevor.

“No, and I bet you couldn’t even find Romania on a map,” Alucard responded haughtily.

“Sure I can.” Trevor whipped out his phone. “OK, Google. Find Romania on a map.”

It took the phone about four seconds to pull up a map of Romania. Trevor held his phone out triumphantly to show him.

“There. Gotcha.”

“That’s cheating and you know it.”

“Not in 2018 it’s not,” said Trevor. “You gotta get with the times, Alucard my guy! You can’t just pretend it’s the dark ages forever.”

“Ugh, whatever. I don’t have to prove my tech savvy to you, of all people.” Alucard gave Carmilla a slight squeeze, prompting her to leave his lap in a hurry. “Oh, and so you know, it’s Roma- _NEE_ -a.”

Trevor smirked.

“Are you this much of a prick to everyone, or did I just get lucky?”

“It’s a pet peeve of mine,” said Alucard as he rose from his seat. He took a cursory glance at the television as he made to leave and frowned slightly. “They were supposed to make twenty-four biscuits?”

“Huh—?” Trevor followed Alucard’s gaze. The bake-off was getting intense, with the clock ticking down and the bakers scrambling to finish their sugar cookies. The camera panned from table to table, briefly showcasing the various designs. “Yeah, I think they said 24.”

“Viv’s only got seventeen. They’re going to dock points for that.”

“I thought you didn’t care for baking?” said Trevor, smirk widening into a grin.

“I don’t. Seventeen biscuits, though… Where are the other seven?”

“I think she dropped a plate a bit ago.”

“I see…”

Seemingly dissatisfied with this answer, but with no desire to continue the conversation, Alucard slunk off toward his room. Trevor looked down at Carmilla, who had taken a seat on the floor by the coffee table. She gazed back up at him with big, green eyes.

“Your dad’s a weirdo, you know that?” said Trevor.

“Mrow,” Carmilla answered, as if in understanding.

Trevor turned his attention back to the television: the judging was already underway, and he was eager to find out who’d won that round. One of the contestants brought up a sad-looking tray of hurriedly decorated cookies.

 _“Oh dear, dear…”_ said one of the grandmotherly hosts, _“Viv, you’ve only got, let’s see, three, six… So you only made seventeen, when we asked for twenty-four…”_

Trevor blinked as something occurred to him.

“Wait a second… How did he count those cookies so fast?”

* * *

_“One hundred thirty… two, four, six, eight, one hundred forty…”_

On a foggy evening at the end of September, Trevor returned from grocery shopping to what he had assumed was an empty apartment. Just as he got in the door, though, he caught the sound of a low voice reading off a steady stream of numbers.

It took him a minute to discern where the voice was coming from. Alucard’s bedroom door was shut, and the TV was off in the main room. The kitchen light was on, but the kitchen was empty. Or was it? Trevor came around the bar to investigate, and found Alucard crouched on the floor—rhythmically moving what appeared to be seeds from one pile to another in little groups of ten, brows furrowed in deep concentration.

“One hundred sixty, two, four, six, eight, one hundred seventy…”

“Uh…” Trevor grit his teeth nervously. “Alucard?”

Trevor’s roommate jumped, dropping the seeds in his hand. He looked up at Trevor with a gaze more piercing than normal.

“You’re back already,” he said tersely.

“Yeah…” Trevor responded. “Hey, uh, Alucard? What the fresh fuck are you doing?”

“Well, I _was_ going to make lentil soup tonight,” Alucard explained, “But I spilled the lentils, and now I have to make sure I have them all.”

Trevor didn’t think a single explanation would have made sense for this scenario, but the answer was still somehow wilder than he could have imagined.

“Why…. though?”

“Because,” said Alucard. “And now you’ve made me lose count, so I have to start over. _Thanks_ , Trevor.”

“Er… Can’t you just trust that they’re all there?”

“No.”

“You uh, shouldn’t be eating those off the floor…”

“Of course not, I’m not an _animal,”_ said Alucard. “I’ll throw them out when I’m done.”

“But you have to count them all.”

“Yes.”

“Even though you’re just going to throw them out anyway.”

“Do you have a point here, Trevor?”

“I mean, about as much a point as you have counting beans that you’re just going to throw out.”

“They’re _lentils_ ,” Alucard huffed. “Now will you please just leave me to my cooking? I have to get this done.”

 _You know,_ Trevor thought to himself as he watched Alucard sweep the spilt lentils back into a single pile, _of all the stupid, petty hills I expected Alucard to die on, this one wasn’t it._

“Do you, uh… want help?” Trevor set his grocery bags down near the fridge. “It’ll go faster if we both—!”

“No, I have to do it myself or it won’t be exact,” said Alucard.

“You know what? Fine,” said Trevor. He yanked the fridge door open and started to put his groceries away, wherever he could fit them between Alucard’s fancy cheeses and expensive meats. “But just so you know, they make lentil soup that comes in a box. You don’t have to fucking do it from scratch.”

“Garlic,” Alucard reminded him. “The boxed ones all contain garlic. But thank you, Trevor, for trying.”

“Whatever,” Trevor replied. “I’ve got plans tonight, so I’ll leave you to it.”

“Going out again? You just got back.”

“Yeah, I was just dropping groceries off before goin’ out drinking with the buds. All our professors put a big test on the same day. Midterms aren’t for two weeks, and they’re already going ham…”

“You… have tests in grad school?” Alucard raised an eyebrow.

 _Shit,_ Trevor thought, _shit shit shit! Uh…!!_

“Yes,” said Trevor, convincingly.

“I see.” Alucard was, somehow, convinced. “I didn’t think you would…”

“Yeah, it uh. It depends on the program. And my program has tests, since we don’t have essays and papers and stuff.”

“Right.”

“Anyway,” Trevor stuffed the rest of his groceries into the cabinet that Alucard had designated for him. “Good luck with the, uh, counting.”

“Thanks,” Alucard replied tersely. “At this rate I should be done before tomorrow.”

Trevor stuffed the shopping bags back into the coat closet on his way out. As he opened the front door, he caught the sound of Alucard’s low, steady voice:

“... Four, six, eight, twenty… two, four…”

* * *

Two hundred and six lentils gone to waste. Alucard swept them up with a dustpan and dumped them unceremoniously in the trash. He let out a sigh, stretching, before going to fetch a tie for his hair. Now, forty-three minutes after he’d taken the lentils out of the pantry, he was ready to actually start cooking. He tied his golden curls into a loose bun and clapped his hands together, psyching himself up for the task ahead.

Alucard took out the vegetables (onion, celery, and a mushroom) the spices (coriander, cumin), and the ground beef (left overnight in the fridge to thaw). And, for good measure, a bottle of wine to cool his head. He poured himself a glass while he got some olive oil heating in the pot. Attentive to the sound of the stove, Carmilla wandered over from the cat tree to take a look.

“Boxed soup…” said Alucard quietly, “As if I live under a rock! For fuck’s sake!”

Alucard put the glass back down on the counter a bit more firmly than he’d intended. He got out a pan to brown the meat, and a cutting board for the vegetables. He would avoid adding the lentils as long as he could get away with. He usually wouldn’t make something like this—but it was his mother’s recipe, and he’d been feeling a bit nostalgic when he planned his meals out for the week.

He got to work chopping onions, swiftly, indifferently, taking out his frustration on the unfeeling vegetables. He was used to his counting habit setting him back—he’d dealt with it all his life, after all—but to reveal it to his new roommate in such an embarrassing way…

_Be calm, Alucard. It’s not a big deal. He just caught you at an inopportune time._

Even so… anxiety welled up in his chest. Trevor was, so far, the first roommate who’d managed to go more than a month without breaking the lease prematurely. He’d had five previous tenants—with tenures ranging from three days to three weeks—and in each case, it was the tenant who had decided to end the lease. None of them had cited a reason why, and some even seemed to be making up excuses, but Alucard knew why. He wasn’t exactly the easiest man to live with, much as he wanted to be. There was the decor, and the cat, and his various habits…. He was simply too eccentric for most people. At the same time, he was loath to change his lifestyle to accommodate others. After all—he kept the place neat, didn’t he? Took the garbage out on time? Surely his ungrateful tenants could do worse?

Alucard had hoped Trevor would break the pattern, and so far he didn’t have any reason to doubt. Trevor didn’t seem to care about Alucard’s quirks, other than telling his friends about them behind Alucard’s back. Or perhaps Trevor was so desperate for a place to live that he’d accept even this? How long would that last?

With the vegetables chopped, Alucard dumped them unceremoniously into the pot to soften them. He took a deep breath and had another sip of wine.

_Relax. If Trevor got through the first month, he probably isn’t going anywhere. Besides, we have more pressing issues at hand. Namely… that he’s a shitty roommate, and a complete buffon._

Alucard didn’t think Trevor had it in him to be actively antagonistic; on the contrary, he just didn’t seem to be able to grasp how his actions affected others. He’d leave dirty dishes and beer bottles on the coffee table overnight. Used pans sat in the sink for days before Alucard reminded Trevor to clean them (or, in need of a specific pan, he’d end up grudgingly cleaning them himself). Trevor would leave his laundry in the dryer and retrieve clean clothes as needed, leaving Alucard to deal with the rest when he needed to switch his own laundry. There even seemed to be a disconnect between his brain and mouth: he’d fire off nonsense and profanities at all hours of the night. Trevor had asked Alucard point-blank about his national origins without even _considering_ how that might sound. Each time Alucard gave him a fresh reminder about the dishes, or the laundry, or scolded him for his noise, Trevor would nod and promise improvement, then seemingly forget all about it.

In fairness, Trevor wasn’t _completely_ terrible—he seemed to have shown some consideration earlier, offering to help Alucard with his counting—but such moments were few and far between.

_If he stopped to think for a single second about someone other than himself, he might actually be a decent person. It’s a wonder why I don’t just evict him._

But he knew why. And as he stirred the lentils into the soup, he reminded himself why he was willing to put up with Trevor at all.

 _A Belmont, though… I can’t pass up this chance._  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i always have the time of my fucking life writing their dialog lmao


	4. Wine Crime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trevor relates his discovery to Sypha, who has some, er, interesting ideas about his roommate...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> would be nice if i could get my shit together and update this thing more than once a month lmao
> 
> I've actually been sitting on this bit for a while, whoops

“So I get home and there he is, sitting on the kitchen floor counting beans…”

After the previous Skype call fiasco, Trevor had gotten in the habit of venting his Alucard woes offsite. Today he’d chosen a coffee shop close to his school, and Sypha had courteously traveled across town to meet up with him. Her expression changed from mild confusion to vague concern as Trevor shared his roommate’s latest antics.

“And to top it all off, he wouldn’t let me help,” Trevor finished. “He’s absolutely unbelievable, Sypha. I can’t get a read on this guy at all.”

Sypha, who until this point had listened bemusedly to his tale, now put her latte back down and gave Trevor a more serious look.

“Uhh, Trev,” she said, “Google the symptoms of vampirism real quick.”

Frowning, but figuring he should humor her, Trevor got out his phone. He had to skip past a couple of dodgy-sounding sites before finally finding a Wikipedia link.

“Pale skin and fangs, avoids sunlight… dislikes garlic… attractive—well, he’s definitely got that one down,” said Trevor, browsing the list, “Arithmomania… what’s that?”

“Arithmomania is the intense need to count things,” Sypha explained. “One of the traditional methods of protecting yourself from vampires is to scatter seeds or grains around the outside of your house. The vampire will feel compelled to stop and count them all, and the idea is that they stay up all night counting and then get vaporized when the sun rises.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” said Trevor. “And—how did _you_ know this, Sypha!?!”

“I may have had a vampire phase when I was younger,” said Sypha matter-of-factly.

“I should introduce you to Alucard then; I bet you two would hit it off.”

“Oh can it, Trevor.”

“But seriously though,” said Trevor, “You don’t _really_ think he’s a vampire, do you? I mean, come on. Vampires aren’t real.”

“You don’t know,” said Sypha. “Maybe you just haven’t met one before now?”

“He’s probably just got some kind of OCD,” Trevor continued. “I’m sure there’s a rational explanation for all the weird shit he does.”

“Didn’t you say he avoids garlic, too?” said Sypha.

“Probably just allergic to it.”

“Does he have a reflection?”

“I’m pretty sure he does, and he’s fine out in the sun, too.”

“Does he avoid running water?”

“The place would probably smell like shit if he did, so I’ll take that one as a no.” Trevor put a hand to his forehead. “Listen, Sypha, I appreciate you trying to help diagnose my roommate here. But I’m pretty sure there’s no such thing as vampires.”

“Alright,” said Sypha coyly, grinning, “Deny at your own peril, Trev. One night you might wake up to find a pair of fangs sunk into your neck—!”

“Aw, shut up!!” Trevor gave his giggling friend a playful swat across the table. “Don’t _say_ that, Sypha—!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave you alone. But seriously. Keep me posted on what you find out, yeah? Even if he isn’t a vampire, there’s gotta be some reason he’s so weird.”

“Yeah, yeah, I will.”

“Anyway, how’s everything else going?” said Sypha. “School and all that.”

“Right, yeah. It’s going…”

Internally, Trevor was glad that Sypha had changed the subject. He didn’t want to admit it, but the thought of Alucard’s teeth against his skin had sent a chill down his spine.

* * *

Alucard was there when Trevor returned to the apartment that evening. He had a glass of wine in one hand and the cat in his lap; the TV was tuned to some documentary or other. Trevor wandered over to the back of the couch.

“Whatcha watchin?” he asked, only half-interestedly.

“A documentary about wine crime,” Alucard answered.

“Sorry, _wine crime?”_

“I just started; I can go back if you’d like to watch with me.”

“Well, I have to find out what the hell constitutes a wine crime.”

“Other than the stuff _you_ drink,” Alucard jabbed, “More specifically, this documentary is about wine fraud. Labeling cheap wine as something expensive and selling it to gullible millionaires, for example.”

“Gotcha.” Trevor took a seat on the couch. Alucard returned the video to the beginning so Trevor could get the context. For the most part, the documentary was more interesting than he expected: the fraudster lived a glitzy, glamorous life, selling his fake premium wines at auctions and rolling in ill-gotten wealth. It almost sounded like a good deal, if it wasn’t extremely risky.

About a half hour in, Trevor nonchalantly deposited a bag of nuts on the coffee table.

Alucard glanced at it curiously.

“Peanuts…?” he said.

“You can have some if you want,” Trevor offered.

Alucard looked at the nuts, then at Trevor, then back at the documentary, frowning.

“No, thank you. If I open that bag, I’ll have to find out how many there are.”

“I don’t think there’s more than twenty,” said Trevor.

“Don’t be an idiot, there’s at least forty in there.”

“Wanna bet?” Trevor grinned.

Alucard narrowed his eyes.

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you.”

Trevor said nothing; he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from cracking up.

“Unbelievable,” Alucard continued, frowning. “Arithmomania is a serious mental disorder, and I will not have you making fun of me for it.”

Trevor almost felt a little bad, in that moment, for so deliberately teasing him. What if he really did have clinical arithmomania, and Trevor just made a gigantic ass of himself?

Alas, the look on Alucard’s pretty face was enough to quiet what was left of Trevor’s conscience.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re cute when you’re mad?” he said sweetly. Alucard glared at him, flushing.

“Nobody still living,” he said tersely. “Fuck off, Trevor.”

_Cute he may be, but god, he’s as insufferable as ever._

“‘Nobody still living’?” Trevor echoed, mockingly. “Do you have to be so fucking dramatic about everything?”

“Being overly dramatic is my _brand_ ,” Alucard snapped. “Now would you like to watch this documentary with me or not?”

“You know what? I’m good.” Trevor stood up again, taking the peanuts with him. “I’ve got Overwatch tonight anyway. Enjoy your wine crime.”

Alucard’s eyes narrowed again.

“Don’t tell me you _only_ sat down to try to get me to count for you.”

“Fine, then I won’t say anything.”

_“Trevor Belmont—!”_

But Trevor was already halfway to his room; in seconds he’d disappeared and shut the door behind himself. Alucard let out a frustrated sigh and glanced down at the cat in his lap.

“I was wrong, Carmilla,” he said quietly. “He’s not just an idiot, he’s an asshole.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone curious, Alucard was watching [Sour Grapes](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sour_Grapes_\(2016_film\)), which is a fantastic documentary. 
> 
> (do i just make the characters watch things i've been watching on netflix? mmmmmaybe. shh)


	5. Texts from last night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when Alucard is having a perfectly fine evening by himself, he gets a text message...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is probably one of my favorite chapters i've written so far
> 
> all typos in dialog are intentional

Alucard was having a perfectly fine evening by himself.

Trevor had left a note on their fridge that afternoon, saying he would be going to a post-midterms house party after class and wasn’t sure when he’d be back. Alucard already had the night off from work: midterms were coming up at his own school, and extracurriculars had been suspended to give the students time to study and finish papers. Trevor’s departure was just icing on the cake. Alucard spent the afternoon tidying up the apartment (he’d been meaning to dust for weeks), then settled in for his usual ideal evening: dinner, a documentary, and wine.

_ Ah… _ he thought to himself,  _ this is nice. No obligations, no distractions, and no Trevor Belmont. _

He ended up watching two documentaries and an episode of Planet Earth (all thanks to Netflix’s autoplay, his nemesis) before realizing that he should probably start thinking about retiring to bed.

Just as he stood up to wash the wine glass, he heard the familiar buzz of his Blackberry on the coffee table. A text had come in. Alucard set the wine glass down on the counter before returning to the living room for his phone.

_ Who could possibly be texting me at this hour? _

Alucard’s confusion turned to disgust as he saw the sender.

**_From Trevor Belmont - 1:34 AM_ **

_ u awake? can u pikc me up? im issed th ladt bus _

Alucard stared at the message, hatefully, and just as he was considering how to reply, another came in:

**_From: Trevor Belmont_** **_\- 1:35 AM_**

_ im at th bsu statin on campsu _

Alucard briefly considered just leaving him there. It was his own fault for losing track of time and failing to arrange for a designated driver.  _ I’m not your mother. Just crash at a friend’s place. You’ve got friends, don’t you? _

And yet… if Trevor had made it all the way to the bus station without anyone offering a couch or a ride, he probably did need someone to come get him. The night was chill. Much as he hated the man, Alucard didn’t like the thought of his roommate holing up under a bus shelter for the night. Possibly freezing to death.

Sighing to himself, Alucard grabbed his keys and coat from their hooks and briskly left the apartment.

_ You owe me for this, Belmont. _

* * *

A light rain had begun to fall by the time Alucard pulled up to the bus station in his black Lexus. The campus was completely empty at this time of night, and almost eerily silent. Alucard drove slowly, examining the various shelters as he looked for Trevor. Finally, he gave the horn a quick tap; a shadow jolted into movement beneath a nearby awning, and Trevor Belmont stepped unsteadily into the light.

Alucard rolled the passenger window down.

“Get in.”

Trevor was quick to oblige, yanking the door open and practically falling into the passenger seat. Alucard wrinkled his nose; Trevor reeked of alcohol, and not the good kind.

“Good god, how much did you have to drink?”

“Prob too much,” Trevor answered.

“Apparently. Come on, let’s get you home.”

The car roared to life as Alucard hit the gas, and the two of them zoomed back toward the main road. Alucard cracked the windows and turned the air on, hoping to prevent Trevor from stinking up his car.

“Damn, this is a nice car,” said Trevor, glancing around the inside. “I dind’t even know you had a car.”

“I fucking drove you to Costco last week,” Alucard responded tersely.

“You did? Right… yeah…” Trevor groaned, then let out a belch. “Can you, uh… turn… turn a little slower?”

“If you need to vomit, say something and I’ll pull over,” said Alucard.

“Don’t worry,” Trevor reassured him. “I barfed like… twice on the way to the station, so I’m prob all good now.”

“Eugh, no wonder you reek.”

“Yeah. I dongt usually drink this much. I haven’t been this smashed since I was like, a freshman.”

“Any special occasion?”

“Midterms, man.” Trevor belched again. “I’m pretty sure I failed the witchcraft one.”

“Sorry, witchcraft?”

“Yeah, like, witch history and shit.”

“Okay…” Alucard still wasn’t sure what his roommate was referring to, but decided not to press him. He was in no state to give a coherent answer.

“Did yuo know,” said Trevor, “That the like… one of the theories is that the girls were all on like, drugs? Like from mold or some shit.”

“Which girls?”

“Yeah, the witch girls.”

“Forget it.”

Why was he even having this conversation? If Alucard had kept his mouth shut from the beginning, Trevor might have just fallen asleep in the passenger seat, and Alucard could have had another 20 minutes of beautiful silence.

“Uh… Thanks for pickgin me up,” said Trevor quietly. “You’re… you’re a real champ, Alucard. The real MVP.”

“You’re welcome,” said Alucard, without meaning it in the slightest.

“Next time you need someone to be your DD, I’ll do it,” said Trevor. “Scouts honor. If you’re ever too drunk to drive, you can count on your pal Trev. I’ll get you right home.”

Alucard snorted.

“No you won’t.”

“Yeaaaah,” Trevor conceded. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before you’re drunker’n me.”

“Mm-hm. And Cocytus will melt before I let you drive my car.”

Mercifully, Trevor managed to keep quiet for the rest of the ride home; the night’s fatigue was beginning to set in. Alucard had to help his half-asleep roommate up the stairs to the apartment, Trevor leaning heavily on his shoulder and mumbling inaudible nonsense as they went. After depositing Trevor on his bed, Alucard retired to his own room and shut the door with a sigh.

_ That’s an hour of my life I’m not getting back. _

Even so, it was somewhat of a relief to know that his roommate was home safely. Not that Alucard would have stayed up waiting for him, of course. But just some peace of mind. 

As Alucard changed into his pajamas, there was a buzzing sound from the nightstand—his Blackberry again. After a quick glance at the clock to confirm that it was, actually, still the wee hours of the morning, Alucard went over to see what kind of lunatic was trying to get ahold of him at this hour.

Surprisingly, there was a text from Trevor. Alucard opened up his messages to confirm that this was in fact a new message, and not a mistaken notification for an old one. Sure enough, though:

_ From: Trevor Belmont - 1:35 AM _

_ im at th bsu statin on campsu. _

**_From: Trevor Belmont - 2:23 AM_ **

_ oh u dnt have to anymore. im home now _

Against all logic and reason—Alucard couldn’t help smiling. He typed out a reply before putting the phone back down and resuming his preparations for sleep.

**_From: Me - 2:24 AM_ **

_ Yes, I was aware of that when I brought you home. _  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you feel like you've seen the texts from this chapter on tumblr: You Have


	6. Trevor is a hopeless bisexual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trevor recounts the aftermath of his latest drinking adventure with Sypha over a soda--yes, a soda.

“No more drinking for me, Sypha. After last weekend I’m done, cold turkey.”

“Uh-huh. Which is why you wanted to meet in a bar, I’m sure.”

Sure enough, the following weekend Trevor and Sypha got together for their usual catch-up session at a bar on Sypha’s side of San Francisco. Notably, Trevor had ordered a modest soda for himself to start off the evening.

“So I’m guessing midterms didn’t go well,” Sypha prodded, sipping from her own drink.

“God, no,” said Trevor. “I studied, I swear I did. But I got in there and it’s like my mind went blank. I couldn’t remember a damn thing in German, I probably mixed up a bunch of names in Salem Witchcraft, and I’m pretty sure my essay for English Lit made no fucking sense. And god, don’t talk to me about geology…”

“Trev…!” Trevor could tell his friend was trying not to laugh. “That sucks, though; I’m so sorry. And I’m guessing you went drinking to drown your sorrows?”

“Bet your ass I did. Someone in my geology class was having this huge house party.” Trevor took a swig from his soda can. “I had no idea geologists could go so hard. Like, you wouldn’t think so, right? Just a bunch of rock nerds? Nope. It turns out geologists love only one thing more than rocks, and it’s beer. Even the professor was there getting hammered.”

“Holy shit, the professor?”

“Yeah dude. He brought a couple six packs of IPAs and told us to enjoy responsibly, but like, an hour or so in he was just as trashed as the rest of us. Playing beer pong and everything.”

“That’s… oh my god,” said Sypha. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Yeah, it was bananas,” said Trevor, “But anyway, since our adult supervision got drunk off his ass, I ended up havin’ a couple drinks too many. I don’t even remember how I got home, but I guess Alucard came to get me at some point?”

Sypha raised an eyebrow.

“You guess?”

“According to my phone, I texted him to come get me at like 2 AM.”

“And he was awake?”

“Dude’s fucking nocturnal, remember?” Trevor reminded her. “Anyway, I woke up the next morning in my own bed with the worst hangover I’ve ever had, ever, in my life, including the time I passed out naked in the bathtub at your parents’ place.”

“They’re still mad at you, by the way.”

“So yeah!” said Trevor, bringing his harrowing tale to a close. “I’m done drinking. I’ll do like, one drink, tops, but I’m getting too old for this shit. I’m not as spry as I used to be.”

“Uh-huh,” said Sypha, rolling her eyes. “We’ll see how long that lasts. Still, though… I’m impressed your roommate came and got you. I thought you hated each other.”

“Still true,” said Trevor, “Grateful as I am that he got me home in one piece, he’s still a gigantic prick. He _insists_ that I put plastic bowls and shit on the top shelf of the dishwasher and ceramics on the bottom. What fucking difference does it make? They all get clean the same, don’t they??”

“I mean, he’s got a point,” said Sypha. “Heat warps plastic, so you want to put plastic stuff away from the heat source—i.e., on the top shelf, not the bottom.”

“No shit? That explains why my tupperwares don’t close anymore…” Trevor made a mental note of this, or at least, attempted to. Trevor’s mental notes tended to be fairly short-lived.

“Any other Alucard-isms that you’d like to get off your chest?” said Sypha, smiling over her drink. “The girls at the museum eat this stuff up.”

“I’m glad you can find enjoyment in my suffering,” said Trevor. “Anyway, a few days ago he fucking yelled at me for leaving toothpaste in the sink; meanwhile, not five minutes earlier, I’d had to pull a whole wad of blond hair out of the shower drain. You’d think someone with hair that beautiful would know to clean the drain once in a while, but nooooo!”

Trevor took a swig of soda before continuing.

“It’s infuriating, Sypha, he spends like an hour in there in the mornings. I don’t always have to compete with him for the bathroom, but when I do it’s the worst. He takes forever!! I bet he’s fucking curling his hair all that time, there’s no way it just curls at the ends like that by itself. Also, just to top it off, his asshole cat spent this whole week meowing at my door.”

Trevor glanced back at Sypha, only to see his friend trying very hard not to laugh.

“What?”

“Trevor,” said Sypha. “You have a crush on him, don’t you.”

“What?!” Trevor nearly spat out his drink. “No, impossible.”

“It’s extremely obvious, Trev. You always make sure to mention how pretty his hair is.”

“Okay, well,” Trevor retorted, though he couldn’t come up with anything to say in self-defense, “Even if he _is_ the sexiest man I’ve ever seen in my life, there’s no way I’m in love with him.”

“Uh huh.”

There was a pause; Trevor finished off his soda, and Sypha took another swig of her drink.

“But like, hypothetically,” Trevor continued, “Do you think he’d be into me?”

Sypha snorted.

“Psh, dream on,” she said. “He’s way out of your league. Besides, doesn’t he also hate you?”

“Yeah, probably…” Trevor rested his head on his hands. “Though, hate sex is a thing…”

“In fanfiction, maybe,” said Sypha playfully.

“I’m just saying—if he asked, at this point I’d say yes,” said Trevor. “No joke. That’s how hot he is, Sypha. I think I could set aside how much he pisses me off for like… half an hour if he wanted to suck my dick.”

“I dunno, Trev. On the one hand, I’m almost certain Alucard hates you and wouldn’t have sex with you if you were the last man on earth. On the other… I’m almost rooting for you? I’ve seen you do stupider things than try to date your nemesis. Like dating your lab partner.”

“Okay, again, I’m sorry I made chem finals so weird!” Trevor groaned.

“Any progress on the vampire thing, while we’re at it?” said Sypha. “Did you end up asking him what the counting was all about?”

“Right, yeah,” said Trevor. “I tried getting him to count a bag of peanuts to see if he’d do it, and he got all huffy about it.”

“You what!!!” Sypha gasped. “Trevor, that’s mean!!!”

“He admitted he’s got rithomania, though!!”

“ _Arithmomania_ , and still!! No wonder he hates you!”

“Who’s side are you on?” said Trevor. “I figured he’d be all evasive if I just asked him about it directly!”

“Unbelievable…” Sypha put a hand to her forehead. “Trev, you’re a real piece of work.”

“Listen, regardless of how I got here, now we know for sure he has arithmomania,” said Trevor. “He said it was a serious mental illness, and therefore, we know he’s not a vampire. Case closed.”

“Hmm,” Sypha didn’t quite seem convinced, but she decided not to push the issue. “Well, in any case, I think you should apologize for teasing him about the counting. Also did you ever, you know, _thank him_ for picking you up?”

“Uhh—!”

“You didn’t, did you.”

Trevor looked away, rubbing the back of his head.

“Look, if you piss him off too much, he might evict you,” said Sypha, sighing. “I think you should buy him some wine or something as a peace offering.”

“He only drinks the expensive shit, Sypha; I can’t afford what he drinks.”

“Okay, then something else he might like.”

“Yeah…” Trevor glanced down at the drink menu, wishing he hadn’t sworn off alcohol fifteen minutes earlier. What could he offer Alucard that the man couldn’t just buy himself? He’d have to give it some more thought.

“I’ll work on it,” said Trevor. “How’s the museum, Sypha?”

“Awesome, you wouldn’t _believe_ the security panic we had the other day,” said Sypha. “Some idiot walked in with a shirt that said ‘I eat oil paintings when security guards aren’t looking’ and thought nobody would notice…”

Trevor listened to Sypha’s tales, but didn’t take much time to absorb them: his mind was wandering toward what sorts of things he might get Alucard as an apology gift…  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love writing modern AUs bc i can just toss in vague references to shit i saw on the internet
> 
> while i usually just make up trevor's drunken antics as i go, i can absolutely, legitimately vouch for the fact that not only do geologists love drinking, your professor might join in


	7. A Peanut Bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trevor tries to apologize for how shitty he's been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working a lot on this lately, so why don't y'all have an update? We're getting rly close to a scene I've been wanting to write for a while lmao

When Alucard got home one evening, he found Trevor on the couch with his laptop hooked up to the television. Some gaming tournament or other was playing, and Trevor was so engrossed that he barely looked up as Alucard approached.

“Ahem.” Alucard cleared his throat. Trevor jumped.

“Oh, you’re back!” he said. “Sorry, I thought I’d use the TV to watch since you weren’t here…”

“What’s all this?”

“Overwatch nationals. Wanna watch?”

“Not particularly, no,” said Alucard. He’d never been interested in games, or even sports, and he doubted he’d be able to follow the action in the first place. He started to head toward his room, but Trevor stood up to face him.

“Hey, uh, real quick,” said Trevor. He took something from his pocket. “I uh, want you to have these…”

Trevor held out a small envelope and a peanut bar. Alucard looked at them, then up at Trevor, then back down at the offerings.

“Okay?” Alucard took the envelope and peanut bar, discovering that the former was unsealed. Inside were a couple of folded $20 bills.

“It’s, y’know, gas money,” said Trevor, looking away. “I realized I never thanked you for picking me up… though, mostly because I was so drunk I forgot about it, but—anyway!” Trevor grinned. “That should cover the gas you spent coming to get me.”

“I see… thank you,” said Alucard quietly. He wasn’t yet sure how to feel about this development; why would Trevor wait a whole week before saying anything? He was almost suspicious that Trevor fucked something else up and was now hoping to get on Alucard’s good graces before revealing the truth. But something about Trevor’s smile made him reconsider his suspicions. It was too earnest to be fake. “And the peanut bar, then?”

“Oh, that’s to apologize for the peanuts the other day,” said Trevor. “In hindsight I realize it was kind of a dick move… Er, anyway, this one’s covered in chocolate. That way you don’t have to count them, right?”

A smile pricked at the corners of Alucard’s lips.

“You’re right. Thank you, Trevor. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

Words Alucard never thought he’d be saying, yet here he was. Trevor’s gift was so simple, it was almost cute: of course a lone peanut bar wasn’t enough to make up for the hurt feelings. For now, though, Alucard decided not to look this gift horse in the mouth. At the very least, Trevor seemed to be _trying_ , which is more than Alucard could have said for their previous interactions.

“So uh,” Trevor shifted his weight nervously, “We’re cool, right? For now?”

“For now,” Alucard echoed. “I’ll be in my room.”

“Kay.”

Alucard returned to his room and set down his things, leaving the peanut bar on his desk for later.

* * *

Long after Trevor had gone to bed, Alucard slunk into the kitchen for a late-night glass of wine. He made sure to select one that would pair well with peanuts and chocolate; even the cheap-looking bar Trevor had bought for him would liven up with a little wine to go with it.

_Ah, what am I doing, taking such care for a peanut bar?_

Alucard brought the glass back to his room and shut the door; on the offchance Trevor woke to go to the bathroom, he didn’t want his roommate discovering him drinking alone in the wee hours of the morning. Especially not now, when Trevor’s earnest smile wouldn’t leave his head.

_Perhaps he can, actually, do something right once in a while. Maybe he’s not so bad after all…_

Alucard sat down at his desk by the bay window and took a sip of wine. Outside, the night was still: a San Francisco fog blanketed the street, diffusing the light from the street lamps into an orange glow. Looking out the window, he felt a distinct ache in his chest; a longing for something he couldn’t quite place.

_Now, what’s this?_

He wouldn’t call it loneliness, not when he’d spent so much of his life alone. He naturally tended toward the night, when fewer people were around, and found it difficult to connect with others on a level that could be considered friendship. He was used to this state of affairs; had accepted it as the way of things. And yet, suddenly, it wasn’t quite enough.

He wished Trevor was still awake, then hated himself for thinking it.

_Why on earth would I want that oaf to be awake, at this hour? 2 AM is Alucard hour._ _No more yelling profanities at games, no more loud drinking—nothing but blessed peace and quiet. I only have so much Trevor-free time; why would I willingly cut that time shorter?_

Alucard knew why. He’d known for a little while now and refused to admit it to himself, as if refusing to put it into words would rob it of its power. He kept questioning the way he felt, pitting his heart’s desires against what his brain knew made logical sense. Logically, there was no way he would be attracted to an absolute buffoon like Trevor Belmont. Trevor was everything Alucard hated: he was loud, he was messy, he drank shitty alcohol, and he only thought about himself. Aside from today’s hiccup, he had little regard for Alucard’s feelings and needs. True, he wasn’t half bad-looking, but his perpetually unkempt appearance left much to be desired.

That someone like Trevor could catch Alucard’s fancy should have been an impossibility.

And yet…

It had been several hours, and Alucard still couldn’t get Trevor’s dumb, lopsided, _earnest_ smile out of his head. He took another sip from his glass.

_If there is a god, he has a cruel sense of humor._

He would laugh, if it wasn’t so pathetic. Regardless of how he felt, he couldn’t allow himself to get any closer. He didn’t really think his feelings had much chance of being reciprocated; if he made a move and Trevor rejected him, their already strained relationship would likely fray to pieces. He couldn’t let that happen. A name like _Belmont_ came with leverage he couldn’t afford to lose.

_Don’t forget, Alucard. Trevor Belmont is no more than a means to an end. Once you’ve achieved your goals, then you can think about this other nonsense… Assuming he survives, that is…_

Thinking himself into broody circles, Alucard was up finishing his wine late into the night. The peanut bar lay forgotten on the desk.


	8. Trevor's favorite remedy for a bad mood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trevor wouldn't say Halloween was ruined, per say, but it was not off to a great start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the long update! Heavier-than-usual warning for alcohol usage on this one, since I actually depict it instead of just discussing it after the fact. Also, any typos in dialog were fully intentional.
> 
> Some might say I started writing this fic *just* for this scene.
> 
> They would be correct,

Trevor had been dreading this call from his parents.

He knew it was inevitable. This was year six of what was supposed to be a four year college career, and his parents had been footing the majority of the bill. He knew he was here on borrowed time, and yet, he wished his parents hadn’t picked Halloween to ruin his day.

He got the call after class. He’d been _planning_ to go to a classmate’s Halloween party, but he knew better than to reject a call from his mother. Both his parents were on speaker, and both of them were eager to give him a piece of their mind:

_“How long are you planning to fuck around on our dime, Trevor?”_

Trevor decided not to go to the party. He’d sworn off alcohol two weeks earlier, after all; going to a party where you’re the only one not drinking _and_ you’re in a foul mood just sounded like a bad idea in general. Trevor waved off his friends’ invitations and caught the bus back to the apartment, trying not to dwell on what his parents said.

They were right, though. What _had_ he been doing the past couple of years other than wasting his parents’ money? He still had no idea what he wanted to major in, much less do with his life. Every time he thought about it, his brain immediately came up with excuses not to think about it. He was running out of time, and his parents were running out of patience.

_Maybe I’ll just drop out and flip burgers until I figure something out._

Although… his parents would probably kill him if he spent 6 years in college only to drop out.

Trevor headed up the stairs to the apartment with a heavy heart. Alucard had put out a couple of plain pumpkins to decorate the porch for Halloween, though honestly, the metal bat he left up year-round was festive enough by itself. He wondered if Alucard was expecting trick or treaters, and as he got out his keys, he considered knocking instead. “Trick or treat!” he’d declare, holding his bookbag out for candy. Alucard probably wouldn’t find it funny, but Trevor almost wished he had someone there to get his reaction on camera.

As he held his hand out to knock, though, he hesitated: a voice could be heard from within. Alucard was on the phone with someone.

_“And I’m saying I’m almost there, father. Please, just give me a little more time. I know I can prove you wrong.”_

Trevor bent down and put his ear to the door. He didn’t want to eavesdrop—nah, scratch that, he _absolutely_ wanted to eavesdrop. He couldn’t tell what the other party was saying, but he could hear Alucard’s footsteps on the floor as he paced. The frustrated sighs, the sentences started and cut off as the person on the other end kept talking.

_“I know, I know. I just need a little more time. Please don’t go through with this.”_

More sighs, more pacing. Trevor waited until he could be certain Alucard had hung up the phone before taking his keys out and unlocking the door. Inside, he found Alucard sitting on the couch in silence, head in his hands. Trevor froze in the doorway.

“Close the door, please, Trevor,” said Alucard coldly.

“Right, sorry…”

Trevor slipped inside and shut the door. There was a tense silence as he headed to his room to drop off his bookbag. Should he say something? What would he say? Maybe he should just hole up in his room for the night and take his frustrations out with a few rounds of Overwatch. Alucard was clearly dealing with his own problems, and Trevor felt certain that his roommate wouldn’t appreciate his presence.

Even thinking this, he ditched his stuff in his room and came back out to the living room.

“Hey, uh,” said Trevor. “You okay?”

 _Seriously, Trevor?_ Trevor thought to himself. _Of course he’s not okay. I know he’s not okay. God, I’m such a dumbass—_

“I’m fine,” Alucard replied; even Trevor could tell it was a blatant lie. “I just got off the phone with my father, that’s all. Our relationship is a bit… strained, to put it mildly.”

“Yeah, I gathered.” Trevor took a seat on the couch and let out a wistful sigh of his own. Alucard glared at him.

“Don’t you have some party or other?” he asked. “It’s Halloween, after all.”

“Eh, decided to skip the party today,” said Trevor.

“You? Skipping a party?” Alucard scoffed. “Next they’ll be reporting flying pig sightings.”

“Hey, hey,” said Trevor. “But yeah, didn’t really wanna party today. Lot on my mind…”

“It’s hard to believe there’s ever a lot on _your_ mind,” said Alucard. As if realizing how uncaring he sounded, he added, “But I can see that something’s bothering you. Did something happen?”

“Yeah…” Trevor had to pick his words carefully. He couldn’t just tell his roommate that his parents were pressuring him to pick a major and graduate already, because then Alucard would learn that he wasn’t actually a grad student. “Bad phone call with my parents earlier. We’re not on great terms either, so… same hat?”

“I suppose so,” said Alucard.

The two of them sat in silence on the couch for a while, neither really sure what to say to each other. Trevor wanted to say something, but he didn’t know how Alucard would react to anything he said. After he’d just gone through the trouble of winning back his roommate’s trust, he didn’t want to put his foot in his mouth again. All the same… sitting on the couch feeling like a waste of space didn’t sound like a good use of his Halloween.

Trevor stood up again and headed over to the kitchen. Alucard watched him, one eyebrow raised.

“Well, there’s one thing I always do when I feel like shit,” said Trevor, rustling around in one of the cabinets. He resurfaced with a bottle of vodka and one of Alucard’s wines. “And that’s do something to feel less like shit. Let’s get wasted and we’ll deal with this shit tomorrow.”

Alucard looked at him, for a time, before smiling to himself.

“For once, you might be on to something,” Alucard conceded. “But, ah—grab the merlot instead, will you? I’m trying to finish the bottle.”

Trevor glanced at the label on the bottle in his hand. _Cabernet Sauvignon._

“As you wish, _monsieur_ ,” said Trevor, in his best horrible French accent. Alucard snorted.

“You’re the worst.”

“I try!”

Trevor switched out the wines, then grabbed a couple cans of soda and beer from the fridge while he was at it. Drinks in one arm and glasses in the other, Trevor headed back to the living room and plopped down on the couch. He poured himself a vodka coke to get started, and Alucard filled a wine glass with his merlot. Alucard raised an eyebrow as he saw the mix Trevor was making.

“Vodka and soda?”

“Don’t knock it ‘till ya try it.”

Once he’d mixed the drink to his liking, Trevor raised his glass.

“Happy Halloween, mate,” he said. “Isn’t this like your favorite holiday?”

“Heh,” Alucard smiled and clinked his glass against Trevor’s. “I suppose I do give that impression, don’t I? But truthfully, I’m indifferent to it.”

“God, you’re boring,” said Trevor. “What kind of vampire doesn’t care about Halloween?”

“Not a vampire.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Briefly, as Trevor brought the glass to his lips, a little voice in his head said: _What happened to swearing off alcohol?_

Trevor frowned.

_After this, really. I’m not gonna go too hard, I promise._

Satisfied with his own precarious logic, Trevor took a nonchalant swig.

* * *

A sixth can joined the five already on the table—that made four beers and two sodas, and a half-empty bottle of vodka. Trevor attempted to line them up, frustrated that they somehow seemed to wiggle out of his grasp.

“Having some trouble, there?” Alucard asked languidly over the edge of his glass. Trevor had long ago lost count of how many times he’d refilled it.

“Shut up,” said Trevor. “Iss hard, okay?”

Alucard giggled, slightly. His foul mood from earlier had lifted after the first couple of glasses; now he watched Trevor with a bemused, if not slightly inebriated, grin on his face.

“You wanna try it, then?” Trevor continued, frowning.

“Watch me.”

Alucard set his glass down on the coffee table with an unsteady _clink_ and set to work lining up the cans. If Trevor had been less drunk he would have been impressed with how steadily Alucard handled them, wondering at how his roommate could have such sure hands after so many drinks. Instead, he was completely shitfaced, and thus only had the brain capacity to notice how nicely Alucard’s hair fell around his shoulders. The slight contours of his back, and the way his pants seemed to show off his trim waist…

“There,” Alucard’s voice yanked Trevor back from distractionville. The cans were in a neat line now, along with the vodka bottle, Alucard’s now-empty bottle of merlot, and the cabernet sauvignon he’d ended up opening once the merlot ran dry.

“Huh…” said Trevor.

“That wasn’t so hard,” said Alucard, pleased with himself. He sat back down on the couch to nurse the rest of his glass.

“Some thigns… are just hard,” said Trevor, brilliantly.

“Hah! Mere child’s play,” said Alucard. “Face it, Trevor: I can do _everythign_ better than you. I bet I could even be _you_ better than you.”

“I’d pay t’see that,” said Trevor, reaching for an unopened can from the floor—to his disappointment, soda was all he had left.

“You’re on,” said Alucard. He took a sip of wine and then stood up. “I’m Trevor Belmont, complete wanker and Overwwatch champion.”

“I’m not Platinum for nothig,” said Trevor with a belch, “But really, complete wanker? You can do better’n that.”

“Alright, fine,” Alucard huffed. “I’m Trevor Belmont, Overwatch champion, unrependant bastard, _and_ top candidate in the running for world’s worst roommate.”

“There you go.” Trevor cracked his soda open. “If I can’t make the top tiers in Overwatch I might as well be the world’s worst something.”

“I know, I’m going to leave my laundry in the dryer so Alucard can’t use it,” Alucard went on, putting on his best Trevor impression. “And every time he asks me to take it out I’ll say I’m stuck in a match, and then forget about it! Ha ha, a foolproof plan!”

“Not bad, not bad, but sit down and watch how a pro does it,” said Trevor. He put his soda back down on the coffee table to indicate he was serious.

“You’re going to do an impression…  of yourself?” Alucard raised an eyebrow.

“No, idiot,” said Trevor. As Alucard sat back down, Trevor stood up and straightened his back, trying to make himself seem more uptight with body language alone. “Ahem. I’m Adrian Tsepesh,” (his drunken slur was the first time he’d ever pronounced the last name correctly,) “But I make my three friends call me _‘Alucard’_ so I can feel cool!”

“Fuck you, I’ve got five friends,” Alucard corrected him.

“It’s my turn, piss off.” Trevor briefly broke character before continuing, “Anyway, I’m Alucard, and I’m sooo pretty with my stupid gorgeous hair and my… stupid gorgeous, uh… face!”

“Hold on,” Alucard stopped him, “You think I’m pretty?”

“Alucard. My dude. My guy.” Trevor plopped back down on the couch next to him. “You are, without a doubt, the prettiest guy I’ve ever seen. And I do mean that. I’m not just sayin’ it. I didn’t think dudes could be that pretty but then—” Trevor made an expanding motion with his hands. “—Boom. There you were. And I thought. Shit, man. That is one pretty dude.”

Alucard’s brows knit together in confusion.

“I thought you hated me.”

“I do hate you,” Trevor replied. “But—real honesty hours here—if you asked me to make out with you, I wouldn’t say no.”

It happened faster than Trevor’s drunken brain could register it. Alucard set his glass back down, sloshing wine on the coffee table, before taking Trevor’s face in his hands and pressing their lips together in a hungry, wanting kiss.

“Ah—!”

Alucard didn’t even give him time to react; not that Trevor had the capacity to. His mind whirled as his brain caught up to the rest of him: the weight of Alucard’s body against his, the slight chill of Alucard’s fingers on his cheeks— _Why are his hands so cold, that’s weird_ —and oh, the sweet taste of fine wine on his tongue as it slipped between Trevor’s lips…

_Oh holy shit, this is…!_

What was left of Trevor’s brain melted away, completely lost in a haze of sensation. It was almost as intoxicating as the drinks had been: letting Alucard snog him out of his goddamn mind.

Trevor sank into Alucard’s kisses, reaching up to rest his hands on his roommate’s waist— _Jesus, this guy has the shoulder-to-waist ratio of a Dorito—_ and pull their bodies even closer. He let his own tongue wander a little, as if to let Alucard know he wasn’t about to back down from a challenge. Incensed by Trevor’s response, Alucard redoubled his efforts; the two traded aggressive, clumsy kisses, neither willing to give the other an inch of ground.

“You mother _fucker_ ,” said Trevor the instant Alucard gave him room to breathe.

“... sorry,” Alucard sat up and looked away, face red. He covered his mouth with his hand. “I should’ve asked before I just…”

“Jumped in?” Trevor finished for him, grinning. “‘s all good. How long’ve you been holding _that_ back?”

“Ah… some time now…” Alucard wouldn’t look at him.

“No shit?”

“No, uh…” Alucard bit his lip nervously, “No shit.”

“Well then.” Trevor couldn’t help gloating a little, seeing the normally put-together Alucard squirm like this—in _his_ lap, no less. “ _This_ is a surprise.”

“Don’t rub it in,” said Alucard tersely.

“Alright, alright,” said Trevor. “But somethin’ tells me you’ve got more where that came from. Wanna go another round?”

“Er… sure, if you’re up for it…”

Alucard looked back at him, and Trevor noticed for the first time how delicate his eyelashes were. Blond eyelashes, framing citrine eyes…  There was an eerie, uncanny beauty to them; almost like a doll’s.

“Anyone ever tell you your eyes are pretty?” Trevor asked.

“I’ve heard that before.”

“Oh, and your hands are cold,” Trevor added, as though these two observations were somehow related. “Like, weirdly cold.”

“Poor circulation,” said Alucard matter-of-factly.

“Gotcha…” Trevor took Alucard’s hands in his. “Betcha I can help warm ‘em up!”

Alucard let out a snort, then dissolved into a fit of giggles. Trevor didn’t think he’d ever seen Alucard laugh openly like this before; it made his heart dance.

“You really are something, Trevor.”

Alucard leaned forward, lightly touching their foreheads together.

“Really something…”

Trevor reached up and tangled his fingers in those golden curls he’d spent so long hating—loving? Funny, how he’d spent so long thinking he hated them when the opposite was true. What else had he missed in the last couple of months, wrapped up in his own silly assumptions?

_Guess I gotta make up for lost time._

Taking him firmly by the back of the head, Trevor pulled Alucard into another kiss…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trevor's halloween turned out pretty good huh


	9. Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trevor awakens the next morning to sunlight streaming in his bedroom window...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:3

Sunlight streamed in through the small window at the back of Trevor’s room. Trevor groaned and blinked as a sunbeam assaulted his eyes; he must have forgotten to shut the blinds the previous night. He rolled over, groggily, to escape the sun—only to notice almost immediately that he wasn’t alone in his bed. His eyes flew open.

Blond. Shirtless. Those were the only two identifying factors available to him; his bedmate had their back turned.

 _Damn,_ Trevor thought. _Guess I can check “waking up next to a blond bombshell” off my bucket list… but how’d this happen, anyway? Thought I went straight home last night… I don’t remember what happened after that. Did I get laid? Who’s the lucky…?_

Trevor sat up a little, hoping to learn more about the person snoozing next to him. To his utter revulsion, he recognized his partner’s face immediately.

“Alucard?! What the _fuck—?!”_

Trevor’s roommate woke with a start.

“Wh—!?” Alucard sat up and looked around in a panic, then seemed to calm as he realized where he was. He put a hand to his forehead. “Ugh, right… christ…”

“The fuck are you doing in my bed?!” Trevor shouted.

“You don’t remember?!” Alucard shot back. “The drinking, the _kissing??”_

“Sorry, the _what?!”_

“Do you _always_ black out when you drink? Jesus,” Alucard sighed. “We got drunk together last night and ended up…” Alucard lowered his voice. “Snogging for a bit.”

Trevor’s mouth fell open. He willed his useless, hungover brain to bring back the memories of the previous night; as usual, it failed to yield. The night he’d shared with Alucard was gone forever.

_I made out with my hot roommate and I don’t! fucking!! remember it!!!_

Trevor pressed his hands together in front of his mouth and inhaled, slowly.

“Did we…” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Did we fuck…?”

“No, thank god.” Alucard stretched a little bit. “For a while it seemed like we were headed that way, but once we ended up in bed together you passed right out.”

Trevor stared at him.

_Betrayed both body and mind!!! This is the worst day of my life!!!_

Alucard put a hand on his shoulder, and Trevor jumped a little at his touch: his fingers were unnervingly clammy.

“We should…” said Alucard, slowly. “We should talk about this.”

“Yeah…” said Trevor. “Uh, first though… why are your hands so cold? It’s not even that cold in here...”

Alucard withdrew, suddenly.

“I just have poor circulation,” he said. “I actually told you that last night, but seeing as you’ve forgotten the rest of—!”

“No, wait. Wait a sec,” said Trevor. “Cold skin… don’t vampires have cold skin?”

Alucard frowned.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I just told you why I—!”

“No, you know what, it’s not just that,” said Trevor. He’d been hesitant to believe the vampire hypothesis even in the face of the most convincing pieces of evidence, but suddenly, it didn’t seem so far out of the realm of possibility. “The counting, the cold skin, the garlic intolerance, the nocturnal schedule, the fact that you’re so goddamn beautiful… Alucard, are you _actually_ a vampire?”

Alucard cast his eyes downward, avoiding Trevor’s gaze.

“Be honest with me, dude,” said Trevor. “I promise I won’t judge. So… are you?”

“No,” Alucard answered, quietly. “I’ve told you, Trevor. Many times. I’m not a vampire.”

Trevor folded his arms.

“Open your mouth,” he said.

“Why—?”

“I gotta check if you have fangs. No fangs and I’ll drop it.”

Alucard pursed his lips.

“That is _not_ helping your case, buddy.”

Alucard turned his head away.

“Alu… _Adrian._ Let me see ‘em.”

Slowly, reluctantly, Alucard turned back to look at him. There was something fierce in his gaze that hadn’t been there before, and Trevor almost regretted pushing him on it. But Alucard opened his mouth and pulled his lips back, revealing his teeth: instead of normal canines, he had a pair of pointed fangs. They weren’t quite long enough to stand out in regular situations, but once Trevor knew to look for them, they were hard to miss. A chill ran down his spine just looking at them.

“No way…” Trevor couldn’t help staring. “You really _do_ have fangs…”

Alucard shut his mouth again.

“Just for the record,” he said coldly, “I am not _technically_ a vampire. I’m only half—a dhampir.”

“Oh.” A lightbulb went on in Trevor’s head. “That explains a lot.”

“Wh—?”

“Yeah, actually, that makes a lot of sense,” said Trevor. “I was trying to figure out why you’re okay going out in the sun, and show up in photos… See, you fit like, most of the criteria, but there was some stuff that didn’t fit you at all, and it was throwing me for a loop. But this makes sense. I mean—who else would live in this kind of house?”

Alucard raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve… put a lot of thought into this.”

“Well, yeah,” said Trevor, scratching the back of his head. “I’m… I guess I’m still surprised, though. I was trying to come up with some rational explanation for it all, but… it didn’t even occur to me that vampires might _actually exist.”_

“What?”

“Wait, does this mean—can you turn into a bat?!”

“Yes, I can,” said Alucard with a sigh. “And no—” Alucard continued talking even as Trevor made to say something, “I will not do it if you ask. It’s not a _party trick,_ Trevor.”

“Aw.”

“More importantly,” said Alucard, “You’re telling me you didn’t know vampires existed before now? I find that hard to believe.”  

“Why the fuck would I think vampires are real?” said Trevor.

“Well…” said Alucard, “You’re a Belmont, after all.”

There was a moment of silence, before Trevor broke it with an incredulous:

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Hello? Earth to Trevor?” Alucard grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him a little, clammy hands and all. “Isn’t your family a line of vampire killers? Rather famously, at that?”

“Huh. First I’m hearing of it.”

“Unbelievable…” Alucard released him. “No, I suppose I should have guessed. A few generations of assimilation in America, where the vampire population is still small… It does make some sense that you wouldn’t know anything about your heritage, Trevor.”

“Oh…” said Trevor. He definitely, _definitely_ would have to ask his parents about this. Provided they were still on speaking terms by the next time he got a chance. “So, uh… Can I ask why you were willing to rent to me? Not that I’m complaining—definitely not complaining, no sir—but if Belmonts are vampire killers, weren’t you worried about…?”  

“A little,” said Alucard. “To be honest, that’s the main reason I was so eager to convince you I’m a human.”

Trevor burst out laughing.

“You sure did a shit job of it!”

“Quiet,” Alucard snapped. “Regardless, now you know the truth.”

“Yeah…” said Trevor. He fidgeted a little, still trying to process this information. “So if you’re half vampire, I take it you’re not really in your 20s, huh.”

“No,” said Alucard. “I don’t know my exact date of birth, but I’m well over 400.”

“Wow, really?” Trevor whistled. “You look amazing.”

“Thank y—vampires age slowly, stupid!!"

“Well yeah, but you still look great,” said Trevor. “So uh… what was it you wanted to talk about earlier?”

“Yes, right—christ, we got off topic,” said Alucard. He put a hand to his forehead and let out another sigh. “I wanted to talk about… well, us. Since we both seemed pretty into the kissing yesterday, drunkenness notwithstanding.”

Trevor wished he could go back in time and yank the fifth and sixth drinks out of Past Trevor’s hands. _Alucard’s going to make out with you, and you’re going to want to remember it, jackass!!!_

“Right,” said Trevor, “I’ll uh… take your word for it.”

“So, er…” Alucard bit his lip, color gathering in his cheeks, “I don’t think I’m ready for, you know, a _relationship_. But, ah… if you wanted to keep making out on occasion, I would be… amenable to that.”

 _Oh my god, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this nervous about anything_ , Trevor thought. _He’s so cute I’m going to die._

“So… like friends with benefits,” said Trevor, for once managing not to blurt out what he was thinking.

“Yes, except not friends, because I definitely still hate you,” said Alucard.

“Oh, rad, same here,” said Trevor. “But you know… I’ve heard that makes the sex pretty incredible.”

Alucard laughed, softly; almost in spite of himself.

“I suppose we’ll have to find out whether the rumors are true.”

“Uh… yeah…” Trevor couldn’t think of anything more intelligent to say in response—not with Alucard looking at him like that, something coy in his eyes—!

“Later, though,” said Alucard, breaking the spell. He unceremoniously tossed the covers off and stood, revealing that he’d gone to bed in only his boxers. Trevor couldn’t help admiring him: he’d seen his roommate shirtless a few times in passing, but he’d never had a view like this before…!

“Ahem.” Alucard had caught him staring; Trevor snapped back to reality. “I’ve got business to attend to today. We can pick this up again another time.”

“Right… yeah. Business.”

After scanning for the clothes he’d abandoned on the floor the previous night, Alucard walked briskly around the room to pick them up. Trevor figured he ought to get moving too, though a cursory glance at the clock on his nightstand told him it was still earlier than he liked being up.

“Oh, and—tell no one of the vampire thing,” Alucard added tersely. “No one. Do you hear me?”

“Of course I’m not gonna tell anyone, Alucard,” said Trevor, grinning. “Who’d believe me?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh when i first got the idea for this fic I had planned for alucard to just be extremely eccentric and the twist to be that he wasn't a vampire. Then i was like "okay what if he is a vampire but the reveal is at the end." finally, once i ended up with like, some kind of overarching plot for this, i was like "actually, fuck it"


	10. Life is, as they say, Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is great, and everything's coming up Trevor!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *clips up through the floor* hello castlevania fandom, did you miss me
> 
> So uhhhh work on this fic came to a halt because Granblue Fantasy grabbed me by the dick for 2 months and refused to let go but now that their anniversary stuff is over I finally had a moment to... sit down and realize that Im actually pretty close to finishing this fic! So I barreled through the part I was stuck on, and hopefully I can get the rest done in a more timely fashion lmao
> 
> (ah who am i kidding, do you know how many granblue wips i have right now. it's frankly embarrassing)
> 
> I was hoping the smash cut between last chapter and this one wouldn't take 2 months to pay off, but. womp womp

“Oh, my, god. Sypha, you’re not going to believe this.”

Trevor at least had the decency to wait until he was sure Alucard had left for the day before booting up his computer and pinging Sypha over Skype. Luckily, she was quick to answer.

“What’s up?”

“You were right—Alucard’s a real-ass vampire,” said Trevor excitedly. “He’s even got _fangs!!”_

Trevor put his fingers up to his teeth, miming fangs to emphasize his point.

“Hot,” said Sypha with a bemused smile.

“I’m serious, Sypha. He really is one!” Trevor frowned slightly as he waited for her to react more strongly. “... You don’t seem that impressed.”

“I _told_ you he’s a vampire, Trev!”

“Aren’t you at least a little surprised? This guy proves vampires are real!!”

“I mean, I always kinda believed they were?” said Sypha. “Like… rationally I figured they probably weren’t real, but I didn’t want to rule out the possibility just in case there was some hot vampire action in my future.”

 _“Speaking_ of hot vampire action,” said Trevor with a grin. Sypha gasped.

“No way…!” she said, “Trevor, did you and Alucard finally—?”

“Uh-huh,” said Trevor.

“ _How_ did you manage that??”

“Well,” Trevor puffed himself up a little. “I’m not saying it was alcohol, but booze might’ve lent me a little helping hand.”

“I thought you were going sober,” said Sypha, frowning.

“Weeeeeell, I had a bad day,” said Trevor. “Baby steps. That’s not important. The point is Alucard and I got smashed last night and ended up making out, so now here we are.”

Sypha didn’t need to know that Trevor couldn’t remember said makeout.

“So… are you two an item now?” said Sypha. “You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who’d be satisfied with a one-night stand with your crush.”

“‘Item’ is a generous word for it,” said Trevor. “I think the more accurate term is… friends with benefits? Except not friends. Actually, maybe I should say fuck buddies. Even though we haven’t fu—!”

“Still, though! That’s exciting,” Sypha pointedly cut him off. “What I wanna know is how you found out he’s a vampire. Did he spill the beans when he was drunk, or?”

“Nope, he was stone-cold sober,” said Trevor. “Actually, I’m kind of impressed he didn’t admit he was a vampire that whole time we were drunk… Anyway, things just kinda added up, and I called him out on it. He finally realized he couldn’t hide it anymore, and boom! Out came the truth.”

“So you cornered him.”

“In my defense, he was already in bed with me.”

“Ohhhh my god.”

“Anyway, I got him to spill it all,” Trevor went on, grinning. “He’s like 400 years old, but he’s only a half vampire, which explains why he shows up in pictures and mirrors and stuff.”

“That makes sense.”

“Also, apparently he can turn into a bat! He wouldn’t do it when I asked, but man, I wanna see him turn into a bat… That sounds dope as shit…”

Sypha giggled.

“It sounds like everything’s coming up Milhouse then, Trev.”

“Oh yeah.” Trevor leaned back in his seat. “Life is good, Sypha. Life is damn good.”

* * *

And for a few weeks, life was good!

Never mind that Trevor’s parents texted him with reminders about his major on a weekly basis, or that classes were starting to ramp up the workload before Thanksgiving break. He was having his own personal _500 Days of Summer_ musical montage: life was beautiful, the birds were singing, and he was banging his hot vampire roommate.

Alucard definitely seemed to want to get the most out of their friend benefits, and Trevor couldn’t blame him—how many hundreds of years had it been since he was last this intimate with someone? Trevor knew vampires were horny (he’d done a _little_ research), but he’d had no idea just how eager Alucard was for a good fuck until the dhampir pinned him to the kitchen counter one afternoon, rudely interrupting Trevor’s cereal preparations mid-pour.

“Jeez, Alucard, _right now?”_ Trevor laughed, setting the box back down. “I just woke up, man…”

“I know,” Alucard said, voice low. His hands snuck down to Trevor’s waist. “I’ve been waiting all morning.”

“Ahh shit, that’s hot.”

Alucard leaned in, laying a needy kiss at the back of Trevor’s neck.

“Trevor…”

“Can’t I eat first? I’m hungry…”

Alucard opened his mouth, and Trevor felt a gentle prick as Alucard’s teeth grazed his skin.

“So am I.”

Trevor shivered, in spite of himself. _God, he’s good. Alright, vampire, two can play at this game._

“You spent all morning waiting for me,” he said sweetly, turning around to look his roommate in the eye. “Not desperate enough to just rub one out?”

“What would the point of that be, when with a little patience I could have _you_ do it instead?”

“Ooh, them’s fightin’ words, Tepes.”

“ _Țepeș,_ and I will have you pronouncing it correctly by the time I’m through with you.”

“Oh you’re on, prettyboy!”

In the end, it turned out the rumors about hate sex were true: a little healthy animosity made their intimacy that much sweeter. Petty arguments quickly devolved into wild flings whenever both of them felt they had something to prove. Trevor found no greater pleasure in life than railing his stuck-up roommate into the carpet just to knock him off his high horse. Alucard, by turns, greatly enjoyed taking out his pent-up frustrations by pinning Trevor to the shower wall and having his wicked way. Before long, it almost turned into a game: whichever one could outlast the other was crowned the winner of whatever argument had led them into bed together.

(Though, eager as Trevor was to show off his sexual prowess, he rarely stood a chance against a vampire’s stamina.)

For a few weeks, Trevor was able to forget about his troubles. So long as he had Alucard there to keep him satisfied—what did he have to worry about? He’d finish out the semester, renew his lease, and pick a major come January. Maybe he and Alucard would have a chance to deepen their friendship beyond just the benefits… ah, what was he thinking? Baby steps, baby steps…

Unfortunately for Trevor, the rest of the world walked with much larger strides.

* * *

One morning in late November Alucard sat up in bed, stretched, and let out an unceremonious yawn. Trevor had left much earlier for morning classes, leaving Alucard with a few extra hours to laze around in his roommate’s bed before work. After the previous night’s sexcapade, the dhampir needed it. _For a human, he managed to give me a run for my money,_ he found himself thinking. _Maybe someday he'll be able to keep up with me all night _…__

He still had an hour or two before he was expected to be at the school, so Alucard took his time getting ready that morning. He selected the day’s outfit carefully, making sure to pick a high collared shirt—Trevor had done a number on his neck, and the teens he worked with would never let him hear the end of it if he came to school with the bruises still visible. _How juvenile,_ he thought to himself, even as he admired them in the mirror. It had been a long time since he’d last let anyone mark him up like that.

After getting dressed and having breakfast, there were a few more minor chores to be done: it was garbage day, and in the heat of the moment the previous night he’d forgotten to take the recycling out.

_Trevor probably forgot about his too… not that he ever remembers. Well, I suppose after last night I can do something nice for him for once._

Alucard gathered up the garbage and recycling from his room and from the common area before making his way back to Trevor’s room. Luckily, Trevor didn’t have anything particularly heinous in the garbage (after their first sober night together, Alucard gave him absolute hell about the smell in his room. Now he seemed to be doing better about not leaving food waste in his room to rot). As Alucard turned to Trevor’s recycling basket, he noticed a discarded letter on the top of the pile, stamped with the official seal of Trevor’s school. Normally he wouldn’t give Trevor’s recycling a second glance, but the words “unit cap” caught his eye, and he ended up reading from the beginning:

_Mr. Belmont,_

_This is to inform you that you are approaching the unit cap at San Francisco State University. The cap is 130 units, and you have so far enrolled in 115. As you also have not declared a major, nor recorded enough units in any one major to graduate before hitting the unit cap, the university felt it was imperative to warn you of the following:_

  * _Once you hit the unit cap, you will be barred from enrolling in any more courses at the university. You may have to seek out alternative options for completing your education._
  * _Your eligibility for enrollment at other universities may also be limited, depending on which units from SFSU transfer to other schools._



_Should you pick a major from the pool of courses you have taken, you may be able to complete a bachelor’s degree and graduate beneath the unit cap. Please contact the school counselors as soon as possible to discuss your academic trajectory._

Alucard frowned.

_A Bachelor’s degree? He told me he was going to grad school…_

It took him a moment to put the pieces together.

_Oh._


End file.
